


Bloodthirsty

by DustyForgotten



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3, Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Courier is Lone Wanderer | Lone Wanderer is Courier, F/F, Light Angst, One-Sided Attraction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 05:26:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14970041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DustyForgotten/pseuds/DustyForgotten
Summary: I'm not happy with this, and honestly just tired of looking at it.





	Bloodthirsty

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not happy with this, and honestly just tired of looking at it.

Dirty duster with the collar up, mop of red hair above— pale skin, perfect lips, thirsty for blood. “ _ Welcome to Meresti, human. _ ”

But that’s not what she hears. “Welcome back, stranger.”

Erin blinks, and has to check her Pip-Boy to see she’s still in the Mojave. Focusing past the tech on her arm, she sees a burlap sack wrapped up around her left hand. Remembers what’s inside, and hands it to Red Lucy.

Queen of the Thorn takes the sack reverently, and rolls it open. She already guessed what was inside, but it’s something else really  _ seeing _ a dozen deathclaw eggs in the bottom of a burlap bag. 

“… You’ve indeed become the greatest hunter The Thorn has ever seen,” Lucy attests, and meets the Courier’s eyes, “the best  _ I’ve _ ever seen.”

That sounds like a flirtation. Maybe Erin just wants it to be. 

“You’ve earned the honour of being part of this sacred ground.” Funny, she thought she already was, with her blood staining the arena’s concrete— but Red Lucy’s offering her a cut of the profits, so she’s not about to argue. She hands off the bag to a lackey, and hands Erin the caps. Lucy’s hand is cold where it brushes hers— and Erin’s back in a substation, and Vance is thanking her for the blood packs.

“Anything else, Hunter of The Thorn?”

Six blinks, and smiles. “Not a stranger anymore, huh?”

Now, maybe Erin’s got a concussion after murdering all those deathclaws, but she’ll  _ swear  _ Red Lucy smiles. “Your bravery surpasses that of any other, and I’ve come to admire your actions.”

That’s definitely a flirtation, coming from a woman that sees witnessing death as a religious experience. Erin cocks a brow, and wets her lips. “Oh, I’m brave. A little stupid sometimes, but brave,” she says, and takes one deliberate step, brushing the edge of Lucy’s personal space. “… Brave like coming onto a woman that could have me shredded?”

“Or stupid,” the woman replies. Erin breathes, reads the situation, and Lucy doesn’t come any closer. “Come with me…” she says with that unwavering hardness of hers. “… My Hunter.” Her voice is soft for that. Soft is good on her.

Up the steps they go, and Erin’s pushing back her hair and checking her breath. Not like she imagines Lucy would mind; it’s a Wasteland.

They weave dark, underground corridors, Erin trailing after that duster, like the nineteen-year-old girl, looking for a boy to deliver a letter, because she needed the caps if she wanted to see her dad again.

And Vance bought blood packs.

Some kind of mood lighting in here, and Lucy steps out to actually slip into something more comfortable. Little odd; Erin’s used to just getting naked and bumping uglies until a feral interrupts, not a bed so luxurious she would honestly fuck someone just to sleep on a mattress like that. Strips to her skivvies with unnecessary haste, and takes the time to give herself a breast exam.

Erin’s scarred from her temple to ankle, a rash or sunburn or something on her clavicle, green spot by the hip from fucking… something or other. Memory’s been slightly shifty ever since Benny had a crack at her brain, but she still remembers Meresti— recalls in uncomfortable clarity sobbing in a semi-public bathroom about roasting a raider until it tasted like nothing but ash, and Vance taught her to suck on pennies until she could swallow old blood. It saved her life, and probably fucked her sanity somewhere along the way.

Lucy’s back in a skimpy, see-through negligee, and Erin’s short-cropped nails scratch red lines across her tits.

“Wow,” she sighs, stunned.

“Not so bad yourself,” replies the woman, crawling onto the bed beside her. She looks a little predatory, but her eyes are blue— just like Erin, like her dad… like Vance.

There are calluses on long fingers as they skim her sides, her chest, and thighs, and very soon she forgets the vampire in the Capital altogether.


End file.
